You Are Only Worth the Price You Pay
by Gumi Reloaded
Summary: Kenshin heads home after his escape from the chaos at the Sunshine Café.


**You're Only Worth the Price You Pay**

**Date:** Sunday, February 5  
**Time:** Late afternoon-early evening  
**Place:** New Meiji lower district after Kenshin leaves the Sunshine Cafe  
**Characters:** Kenshin

Kenshin leaned against the shadows of a doorway, sucking in sharp breaths, his arm numb to the cold which slid like knives under his thin shirt. His arm ached. He wasn't far enough. Only a few blocks. He could still hear the sirens from the cafe, but he'd lost who had been pursuing him, for now. He lifted up the tablet with a shaking hand, flipping open his messenger bag to root for the thumb drive. He only had so long before they wiped it. A few minutes at most. He grabbed the thumb drive and sunk into a crouch, leaning his back against the door as he tapped around the tablet.

A movement and he jerked his head up. A cat jumped off a garbage can and came over to him. Scrawny and scabbed it pressed against his leg as if begging for food. Kenshin scratched it behind the ear and then looked back at the tablet. All he needed was a suspect list. Locked. Phone tracing program. Locked. Everything locked. All needing a password which he didn't have. Didn't have time to get. There was so much information and he couldn't even get to it.

Damn it! Kenshin slammed his fist against the glossy surface and then threw the tablet against the brick wall. The cat jumped and bolted. Kenshin clenched his teeth and ran a hand through his hair. Of course the cop wasn't an idiot. Only he was. He couldn't even get- Why had he even thought that.

"I heard a noise. Over there!" A voice said. Shit. Kenshin darted forward, grabbed the tablet and shoved it in his bag, before springing at the low wall that divided the alley and then over it. He was pelting down a side street. The buildings here were too tall to jump from this height. There were no doors he could break into. Most of them opened to kitchens or the back rooms of stores which would mean people.

He had to go somewhere! He couldn't run around New Meiji covered in blood. They would find him. He would kill them all before they took him back. His stomach twisted at the thought. Brown streets red with blood. Blue and white uniforms torn, spattered red. He swallowed.

No. Not now. Not when he could avoid it. (You can't run forever.)

He had just ducked down another side street when he heard the ringing of footsteps behind him. Not close enough to spot him but they would be soon. How the hell did they keep following him? He bolted down another alley, stumbling, nearly falling. He saw the faint Chinese symbol of an underground club, with women, booze, drugs. Probably closed now but the shadows were deep enough. Kenshin skipped down the stairs two at a time and threw his good shoulder against the door, wincing as it jarred his bad one. And then again. A third time. Another wash of blood went down his back. No good.

They were coming closer. They'd heard the noise. Of course they had. God, he was so stupid. He had no choice. With a sinking feeling he fumbled another hit from his pocket and pressed it into his arm. Shishou would kill him. Shishou would hit him upside the head and call him three times an idiot and he was. More than that. But no time to think about it now.

He dropped his messenger bag and pulled Kitetsu from its cloth bag with his left hand, knowing he was going to have to use his right. He shifted the sword in his hand, closing his eyes and praying to every kami he knew that the hit would catch him before they did.

Coming closer. Two. No three. Okay. Not bad. He could handle it. He breathed out and shuddered as the drug flushed through him again. More jagged this time. Snapping through his veins. Snarling tired muscles back into painful awareness.

Are you trying to get yourself killed? Shishou bellowed in his mind. Like that one time. No time to think about that. Focus.

And then he could.

Saw the tops of the cop's heads.

He jumped, drawing out the katana and smashing the first cop in the temple with the blunt side. He went down. The second one was caught a moment later, snap, across the arm, gun kicked away, a hit over his head made him unconscious. Third one aiming at him. Would be a good shot.

But Kenshin was airborne before he'd pulled the trigger. The bullet shattering a window somewhere. Blunt side against the cop's neck sending him smashing into a wall. Now the cop would only want to kill him a little less.

Quickly, Kenshin dove back down the steps and hid Kitetsu once more. He yanked out a roll of bandages, wrapping it awkwardly over the wound as best he could before tugging on his sweatshirt, pulling the hood over his hair and darting out the stairwell, running as fast as he could, the world a sharp blur.

It seemed like seconds, it seemed like hours, before the hit wore off. Kenshin slowed to a jog and then a walk, but didn't stop, even though his breath felt like sandpaper. He couldn't feel his shoulder anymore but that was probably a bad sign. Sweat rolled down his face, cold and stinging and he wiped it away with his sleeve.

Where was he? Near Namaka Station. He could see the sign just a few feet away. Kenshin went toward it. Not stopping. His heart thundering in his ribs as his vision blurred and swam. Voices echoed. He had...he had a safe house...on the JR line. To..Toyamitsu station. That was it.

He took the escalator, only because the stairs were fuzzing in front of his eyes. He felt sluggish. Sleepy. He needed coffee. Espresso. Wasn't supposed to take it.

Sleep, damn it, Shishou said in his head again. And he would... When it was safe... Maybe...

He bought his ticket, though it took him three tries and as he watched the money be sucked into the machine, he blinked at it and wondered where he'd gotten it.

Oh...right. Salamander. That...that man. And Rat. Yes. Rat was important. He took his ticket and went through the turn style and waited for the train, trying to stand as straight as he could.

So...tired. He needed...

But no if he got...if he got espresso he wouldn't... Someone jerked his sleeve and he jerked on them, his right hand twitching and the man jumped back, apologizing in a series of bows. Kenshin blinked at him and then noticed how close he was to the track. He must have...fallen asleep.

Gritting his teeth he wrenched his arm purposefully so a jolt of pain seared through him, spiking his sluggish adrenaline.

Come on, he thought. He needed something to focus on. Something to... to fix his mind on. A thought occurred and he pulled Salamander's phone from his pocket, flicking through the contacts. Names. Pseudonyms. There were over a hundred people in here. The black and grey of the screen blurred together and he had to blink to keep them in focus.

He managed to stay awake, though and a few moments later the train whooshed onto the platform. Stirring his clothes. He got on, clinging to a pole as people pressed in all around him, so tightly packed he could barely breathe, jarring his shoulder. He could feel them. All of them. The heat from their bodies. The faint vibration of their energy, filling up the car, flicking like tiny nails against the back of his eyeballs. Evening rush... Stupid time to take a train...

Focus. Just focus. On the phone. Try...to find a clue. He gritted his teeth as the train started forward, clung to the pole, continued to flick through the contact list...and a name stuck out at him.

Old lady.

Odd. Why would that be there? Maybe it meant something else. Maybe Rat was a woman. It was possible, though what info he'd managed to get had told him otherwise. But it could be wrong. Maybe he could dial. See who answered.

Kenshin pressed send and held the phone up to his ear. People gave him slant eyed looks, but nothing aggressive so he ignored them. After a moment, the phone clicked and a woman answered.

"Sa-chan. I'm glad you called. Hiroko's birthday is coming up and your mother is going out of her mind." The woman laughed. "Think you can help a crazy old woman?"

"Hiroko?" Kenshin murmured without thinking. There was a pause on the other end.

"...Who is this? This is Sa-chan's mother. Why do you have his phone? Is he hurt?"

Kenshin closed his eyes and leaned his head against the pole. Of course. Of course. His heart squeezed. (as if it had any right to) and he had the sudden memory of the blade sliding through that neck. Salamander's wide eyes.

"Hello? Hello? Is Sa-chan hurt? Can I speak with him please?" her voice had risen. Frantic. She knew. Mothers always knew. (Or that's what they said. Not that you would know)

"I'm sorry," Kenshin said and ended the call. It rang a second later, jarring him. He ended the call again and blocked the number so she couldn't have the cell traced. She could still, of course, but would have to go through her phone company and that would take a day or so. By then he would have what he needed... he hoped.

It was well into evening by the time Kenshin stirred himself to get off at his stop. He stumbled his way out of the nearly empty car and tripped over the gap, nearly falling on his face. That jolt was hardly enough to wake him. He needed...

There...a vending machine with coffee. Energy drink. He pulled coins from his pocket which he dropped, once, twice, with shaking fingers before he managed to get them in. Pressed the buttons. The drink fell with a cold clatter. (Convenient these days, isn't it?) He took the heated can, jogging it in his left hand as he got on the escalator and went up and up into the dark hazy night, the cold wind trash along the ground. The stars were fuzzy and hard to see and the moon was low and swollen.

Kenshin waited until he was safely off the escalator and popped the lid, leaning against the building to chug it down, hating the sweetness of it and the artificial sugar flooding through him, twisting through him, leaving a bitter taste in his mouth. Just needed to get home. That was all.

Home. He breathed a laugh at the thought. Sour little room he was stealing.

The caffeine hit him gradually, making him jittery. He could feel eyes staring at him. Jabbing into the back of his neck. It was just his imagination. Just the caffeine. Just the day. Still, he started toward the squalid little room at a clipped pace. Every sound made him jump. Every car passing by made him want to reach for Kitetsu. He gritted his teeth. He couldn't go on this way. It was a fifteen minute walk to the room and he had to get there without killing anyone.

With a curse he dug his own phone out of his pocket and flipped it open, flipped it closed again. Closed. Open. Closed. Open. click. click. clickclickclick

No. He clenched his hand over the phone. He had to stop. People would see. He jammed his hand into his pocket. Heard someone come out of an alley. Heard the steady beat of a footpad. Kenshin imagined killing him and let the thought roll through him, carry the tension in his shoulders, buzz through the air. The footsteps faltered and stopped. Good.

He was tired of blood. Tired of everything. But not tired. Too awake in this savage world. Too many people. Always too many people. They were all around him. Filling the towering buildings like roaches. So many. All watching him. Waiting for him to destroy or be destroyed themselves. He couldn't save them all. Couldn't even save the people he met on the street. Could only slaughter.

You did it...

"Shut up!"

A group of homeless stopped and stared. Kenshin hadn't even noticed them. He just had to get home. Get home. Once he got there, then he could think again.

He was almost there. Kitetsu was all but dragging on the ground and it was so hard to walk. So hard to want to get closer. He needed to. He needed to take care of things. He needed to hide for the night. To sleep. Because if nothing else the ghosts would come back if he didn't and he hated those. Ghosts. Voices. (Consequences)

So close... he could see the building, only a few windows unlit like broken teeth. Kenshin stopped and looked at it, staring at the brick with a sour hatred in the back of his throat. Only one safe house. There were three others in this city and this was the best one. There were hardly even any rats. He missed the small houses, lost in the country side, near the mountains. He missed the streams. He missed watching Shishou sleeping, peaceful but not vulnerable. Never that.

(This is more than you deserve)

He sighed and carefully made his way down the steps to the door that lead to an unused storage area. The padlock he'd bought himself was hanging there, undisturbed and after three tries he unlocked it and stumbled in, setting his bag by the door, nudging out of his shoes and bringing Kitetsu with him as he made his way across the cold concrete floor. The street lamp outside cast a harsh white light on the ragged futon he slept on and he sat on it, setting the sword beside him.

He pulled off his sweatshirt and, carefully his shirt, unwound the bandages, which felt strange. Oh no... He reached back with his left hand and felt the patch of newly formed skin.

"Damn it!"

He clenched his hand into a fist so hard he cut his palm. He'd have to get it dug out. He couldn't do it himself. Not where it was. He could barely reach it. What- Why hadn't he- This was the stupidest damn day of his life. Kenshin bit back the frustrated yell since that would only alert everyone in the damn neighborhood and instead rubbed his hand over his face and tried to calm down. Maybe it was pointless. Maybe it really was. Maybe none of this mattered.

He couldn't think about that though. If he did he would be pulled down by it. Down and down and there were only two ends to that cycle, both which ended in death. He took up his phone again and pressed Shishou's number, willing his voicemail to pick up and letting out a sigh as it did. Shishou's voice filled his ear, calm, commanding, untouched by the world and everything in it.

Kenshin laid back and stared up at the dark ceiling as the voice-mail let out an obnoxious beep-which, to be honest, was a lot like Shishou, too. He didn't say anything, though and listened to the stillness until he heard a click and then calling again. And again.

Around the tenth time, the coffee was fading and the night wrapped warm around him. Beep went the message.

"Beep," Kenshin said, smiling a little. "Sorry for calling so much, Shishou. Shishou..." He rolled onto his good side, staring at the floor. "...your baka deshi was a huge baka deshi today. It probably won't end well but maybe that's alright. I was born for it, right? I guess maybe I'll die for it too."

He closed his mouth and then wondered what he had said. Wondered if he had even spoken or just dreamt it. No matter. It was warm now and he was walking away through quiet dark roads, lit by fireflies that flickered in and out. A small hand tugged on the back of his shirt.

"Ken...shin..."

He turned. But there was no one there. Just a faint flurry of petals that were red against the white concrete, like blood on snow.

To continue following **Kenshin's** activities please go to this story on our profile page: **Street Commerce 101 **


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